Time
by Darkshadow91
Summary: An Erik/Meg story. Because I find the couple adorable and because Erik deserves a real angel in his life. Be prepared, it's fluffy! Re-posted...I believe it's a little better now.
1. 1 Second

**TIME**

**It took 1 second for Meg to decide to lead the mob away from the Phantom.**

"He's not here, but his boat is gone!"

At Meg's shout, the mob crashed into the water, wading farther out. Meg waited until their lights were small specks in the distance before going toward the mirrors. Her sharp eyes had caught sight of the broken mirrors and she had been sure that there must have been an exit hidden among the littered glass.

She hoped that the mob would be sufficiently occupied on their wild goose chase to not notice her absence. She was tempted to at least call one of the men from the search but she knew if she did, she would never get answers. These men were out for blood, they would kill the Opera Ghost the moment they caught sight of him. And Meg did not want that. She first wanted the Phantom to explain himself.

Clutching the white porcelain mask to her chest, she strode forward, walking among the shards of glass. Her footsteps crunched as she inspected each nook and corner. She yelped as she stumbled forward when she pushed against a curtain covering one of the mirrors. She carefully stepped further into the cove, blinking at the sudden darkness as the curtain fell into place behind her. Stumbling a bit in the dark, she pushed forward, intent on finding the Phantom.

She knew she was disobeying her mother's direct orders but she was just too curious for her own good. She had always been curious about the mysterious opera ghost that had been a constant presence in her life but her mother had always discouraged her on broaching the subject.

But now there was no dissuading her. While her mother had been busy evacuating everyone out, Meg had slipped off toward Christine's dressing room, squeezing through the narrow passageway. Ever since the masquerade, when she had seen that the Phantom was no ghost at all but a real life human being, and a mysteriously handsome one at that, her curiosity had grown and she was determined to quench it. Her curiosity mingled with the anger and resentment she felt towards her once respected hero for burning down her home and endangering innocent lives. Not to mention she was also worried about her friend Christine. She prayed that Christine was well or the Phantom would have a lot to answer for.

Her curiosity, her anger and her fear for her friend were the only things pushing her further into the dark and damp hallway. She kept one hand on the wall, the other held the mask to her chest, walking slowly so as not to stumble on anything. Unfortunately she ended up tripping anyway, on something quite large.

"Ow," she rubbed her skinned hands and glanced down. At her knees, lying unconscious on the floor, was a person.

She bent forward, wishing she had brought a torch with her. She let out a shaky gasp when she recognized the Phantom's unforgettable face. She examined his still form, hoping and praying that he wasn't dead. Even though she felt furious at his behavior, she didn't want him dead. His lips were blue, his clothes wet but she could still feel his heartbeat against her hand when she pressed it against his chest, though it was faint. She touched his cheek and shivered. It was so cold. She wondered how long he had been curled up in this hallway.

Her lips set into a firm line, a determined light shining in her brown eyes. She tucked the white mask safely into her trousers before reaching down and grasping him by the shoulders, lifting his arm around her own shoulders. She stood with some difficulty, surprised by his weight. He was lean, but he was taller than she, more muscular. Glancing at him, she knew that Christine had not chosen him and was probably safe with the Viscount. Pity welled up within her and that fueled her determination to help him. She continued down the tunnel, panting with the effort it took to carry the Phantom. Meg had no idea where she was going but she kept walking forward, hoping that this was one of the Phantom's many supposed escape routes.

After a while of walking, Meg ran into a smooth wall. Gently lowering the unconscious man to the floor, she ran her hands over it and discovered a doorknob. She found it unlocked when she tried it. Opening it, she reached down once again to grasp the phantom and pushed her way into the dark room, sweat running down her face.

Laying him down carefully on the floor once again, she stumbled around trying to find a light. Her wayward fingers brushed on what felt like a torch and she sighed in relief. Finding matches close by, she lit it. She hung the torch on one of the torch holders that hung in the room and bent down toward the Opera Ghost, hefting him toward a small but comfortable looking bed situated in the corner. Once that was done, she took a moment to rest before examining her patient.

His clothes were wet and he was shivering. 'Hypothermia,' she thought grimly, remembering a dancer last year who had contracted hypothermia when she fell into a freezing river. She proceeded in stripping him down to his underwear, blushing at how muscular he was. Rummaging around in a chest by the bed, she found some of his clothes, chastising herself for not keeping a clear head.

'This must have been one of his safe houses,' she thought as she dressed him, pushing thoughts of his near naked body from her head. Finding a blanket in the chest, she wrapped it tightly around him and to her relief he stopped shivering after a few minutes. She lit a few more torches then sat down beside him.

She watched over him for the next few hours as his color slowly returned and his teeth stopped chattering. She examined his face closely, running her hand over the deformed side of his face and feeling her curiosity burn brighter when he flinched at her touch. She realized the deformity wasn't that terrible…it just took some getting used to. The other side of his face was smooth, clean shaven and handsome, a sharp contrast from the misshapen other half.

Questions bounced around inside her skull, each begging to be answered. The resentment she had felt at him for burning down the only place that she had ever called home dissolved as she watched him sleep. There was a vulnerability present on his face that took away all her previous angry feelings. With both her anger and worry draining from her body, exhaustion took its place.

Meg rubbed at her eyes, struggling to stay awake. The night's events combined with the effort of carrying the unconscious Phantom weighed down her eyelids. Yawning, she stretched out at the Phantom's feet, curling herself into a tight ball, before letting sleep overtake her.


	2. 1 Minute

**It took one minute for Erik to realize he wasn't dead…or alone.**

Erik, otherwise known as the phantom of the opera or the opera ghost, blinked his eyes open. He was in his emergency cavern, he realized with a start. But how had he gotten here? He remembered…Christine's…rejection, his fit of rage and desperation, the sudden clarity that she would never choose him willingly, the hurry to escape, and walking down the damp corridor toward this room. Then he had collapsed, too weak and cold to go on, too dead to continue. He sat up…and almost had a heart attack.

There, asleep at the foot of his bed, lay Madame Giry's only daughter. Her golden hair was splayed out around her, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. He gaped at her, not quite believing what he was seeing. What was she doing here?

As if sensing he was awake, she stirred, chocolate brown eyes fluttering open. She sleepily glanced up at him and smiled warmly.

"Oh, good, you're up," her soft voice gave him an uncomfortable tingling in the pit of his stomach and he tensed, not used to the gentle way she was talking to him. He was used to screams of terror and fright, not soothing voices.

"What are you doing here?"

His tone made it clear that she was not wanted and yet she seemed unperturbed by it. He eyed her warily as she stood and stretched, seemingly comfortable in his presence.

"Well, I carried you here," she explained timidly, "You gave me quite a fright, I thought you were dead."

He shifted under her warm gaze, still conscious of his uncovered face. 'Dammit, doesn't she realize she's making me uncomfortable?' He gave her his best glare and, much to his dismay, she smiled even wider. She was obviously finding his discomfort humorous.

"It's an honor to finally meet you, monsieur," she curtsied, still smiling widely and further irritating him. Couldn't she see that he was suffering?

He glared again. 'Why isn't she afraid of me?' He felt both elated and wary at her complete acceptance of him. He cursed himself for feeling so…giddy…had his heart already forgotten what had transpired only hours before? Or was it days? He wasn't sure. He had thought that…SHE…had accepted him, but it had all been a farce. He wouldn't be fooled again. No matter how accepting this young woman seemed.

She once again caught him off guard as she stepped closer to him. His emerald green eyes met her chocolate brown gaze and he was amazed to see the depth of emotion in her dark eyes.

"It seems you got hurt," she said softly, making his stomach do flip flops, "Let me look."

He watched her carefully as her petite hands reached out and took his deformed face between them. He inhaled sharply and she lifted her hands away quickly. "Pardon, are my hands too cold?"

He was once again left speechless. She had willingly touched HIM, the monster, and was worried about his comfort! He shook his head, too bewildered to make a stinging comment, and she relaxed, her hands once again reaching for his face. He watched her intently, waiting for the inevitable look of disgust. Her small hands gently caressed his face and he forced the shiver of pleasure down. He loved Christine, dammit! But not even Christine had touched him so softly before, especially after she had seen his face.

The familiar ache returned as he thought of the brunette but the blonde's warm hands on his face kept him from going over the edge and drowning in his misery.

She suddenly winced and he stiffened, expecting her to push him away and scream at him.

"Looks like Christine clawed you up pretty bad when she ripped off your mask," she murmured soothingly, running her nimble fingers over his deformed cheek.

She got up, picking up a clean rag and wetting it in the small sink. Erik did nothing but gape. As she came toward him, he quickly snapped his mouth shut, once again gaining his composure of the stoic phantom. She came to him, wiping at the marks that had been left by Christine's nails.

"There, that's better," she chirped happily, leaving Erik in a state of awful confusion. He had known that his friend's daughter had a caring personality from watching her care for Christine when the orphan first arrived. But taking care of a beautiful young girl was way different than caring for a misshapen monster such as himself. One that had not only murdered various people but had also burned down her home.

'What is wrong with this girl?'

"Listen well, little Giry. I appreciate your efforts but you are no longer needed. Leave me now," he knew his tone was cold but he didn't want anyone to see his misery, to see the shell that he would surely become without HER. There was no reason left to live…It would only be a matter of time before he disintegrated into nothing.

"I'll do no such thing. Whether you like it or not, Monsieur Phantom, you are recuperating and you need help," she instantly replied, not missing a beat. He growled softly, his anger kindled. He knew the girl was stubborn from the times he had watched over her in an effort to repay his old friend, Madame Giry. At the time, he'd found it amusing…Now, not so much.

"It would be in your best interest to leave now, Little Giry," he ground out between clenched teeth. He knew she was right, he was too weak to even move from his position on the bed. But he had no death wish and he knew Madame Giry would murder him if he kept her daughter down here. Besides that, he sure as hell didn't want any company whatsoever. Arguing with her was making him dizzy and he feared that his reply had not come out as menacing as he intended.

"Well, it would be in your best interest if I stayed, so staying I am," her tone was just as scathing as his had been, "Now, rest."

Erik felt a blinding rage at her continued stubbornness and clenched his fists, "LEAVE NOW!"

But she didn't look at all fazed by his abrupt fit of anger. She just raised a delicate eyebrow, hands on her hips, "I'm not leaving. You can yell at me all you want but I'm staying here. Whether you like it or not."

"If you don't leave," he growled menacingly, though with his vision going blurry, it was getting harder to concentrate, "I'll force you to leave."

"You don't even have enough strength to pull yourself out of bed," she stated matter-of-factly, "I don't think you'll be able to force me out."

His world spun once again and his anger only made it worse. His body seemed to be falling backwards and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He struggled against it, fighting to stay conscious long enough to send her back to her world of light but it was a losing battle. Even now, the darkness was pressing against him, inviting and familiar.

"Damn you, woman," he cursed, blinking his eyes in a worthless effort to stay awake . The only response he got from her was a blinding smile before his world turned black once again.


	3. 1 Hour

**It took one hour for Meg to see the man behind the ghost…and realize he was the most stubborn man she'd ever met.**

"No," the Phantom set his mouth into a stubborn frown, his jaw clenched tight. His arms were folded over his chest, almost like a child who was pouting over not getting his way. Meg gripped the bowl tighter in her hands, feeling exasperated.

While the Phantom had fallen into a fitful sleep, Meg had made herself useful and cooked a meager but much needed soup out of some food she had found in the cupboards by a small stove in the corner. She was no professional chef but she had learned to cook a few meals when her mother had had to work overtime to teach a few of the other dancers some complicated routine. It was far from exceptional but it would do.

"You must eat! You've just come out of hypothermia, you have to eat something warm," she tried to reason with him for the hundredth time in the past hour. She knew he was steaming inside, angry that she had not followed his orders and left him. But she couldn't bring herself to leave him, especially after seeing his baffled expression when she touched his face. He intrigued her, simple as that and she was in no hurry to face her mother's wrath.

He raised one black eyebrow, a defiant frown on his face, "No."

"Urggh!"

Frustrated, she set the bowl down on the small table, throwing her hands up in the air. She could see him smirking, thinking he had won. It was the smirk that did it for Meg. She would make him eat the soup, no matter what. If he thought that she would give up so easily, then he was very mistaken.

Setting her mouth in a determined scowl, she moved the bowl to the bedside table. The Phantom watched her warily, his eyes following her every move. Smiling sweetly, she approached him slowly. She saw his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed.

And then, she lunged, tackling him onto the bed. She quickly straddled his chest, pinning his arms with her legs. Propriety be damned, she would make him eat the whole bowl of soup.

"Now, monsieur, you WILL eat," she giggled at the glare he flashed at her, not the least bit intimidated. He struggled against her but he was still too weak to fight her off and he soon gave up, glaring daggers at her. She might have been frightened had he not looked so incredibly pitiful doing it.

Her resolve steeled as she took in his sunken cheeks and his pale color, which had turned the tiniest bit pink, "Mademoiselle, I hardly think this is proper. Get off me at once."

She ignored his growled plea and, reaching over, grabbed the small bowl of broth and stuffed a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

He nearly choked on the hot liquid, "Are you trying to kill me, woman?"

She didn't answer his question, holding up another spoonful above him in a threatening manner, "Do you promise to behave?"

He glared at her before giving her a stiff nod, his jaw clenched tight. She could see the fury in his green eyes, making them glimmer. She allowed him to sit up a little but kept her seat on top of him, much to his discomfort and her amusement.

"That's a good Phantom," she cooed as she fed him spoonful by spoonful, ignoring his protests. He glared daggers at her, his cheeks still pink, as she continued to feed him. Soon the bowl was scraped of all soup and she hopped off of him, placing the empty bowl in the sink, pleased with her victory. She failed to see him stand up and follow her on silent footsteps.

When she turned around, he was smirking down at her and a delicious shiver ran up her spine, confusing her. She had never reacted that way to anyone before.

"Now it is your turn, mademoiselle," his long arm lashed out and grabbed her by her waist, though she tried to avoid it. He used his larger size to his advantage, pinning her to the bed while she tried to fight her way out of it. He hissed at her to keep still, which made her thrash around even more. The frown on his face gave way to a devilish smirk as he caught sight of his abandoned sheets lying rumpled on the bed. Still using his size as leverage, he caged her in with his body while reaching over with his hand for the white fabric.

Meg fought down a blush as his hands worked skillfully at tying knots at her hands and feet. Once he was satisfied that she wouldn't escape, he made his way to the pot of soup, scooping it out and placing it in the same bowl he had eaten out of. She watched him intently as he walked, amazed at the lithe way he moved, even though she knew he was still weak. Every step he took was smooth and suave, agile even. He was soon sitting beside her, spooning the warm liquid into her mouth. She hoped he wouldn't notice her blush as she obediently swallowed the warm broth.

His eyes glittered mischievously as he fed her, "That's a good little Meg."

She pouted childishly, "What happened to proper?"

His smirk widened, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you uncomfortable Meg?"

She blushed and another shiver of pleasure ran up her spine but she was not one to be intimidated. She raised her chin defiantly and lied, "No."

He raised his eyebrow again, clearly not believing her blatant lie, "I'm only repaying the favor. After all, you've got to eat too if you're going to insist on staying here."

It occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, he was worried about her health. She felt warm at the thought; though it was still very clear from his irritated frown that he wasn't at all happy that she was staying. But there was a surly defeat in his voice, as if he was resigned to the fact that she wasn't going to change her mind about staying and that he really did need her help. And that made her happy.

'He's not heartless as everyone believes he is. And he is no monster. He's actually very…sweet.' She finished her meal without any protests, thoroughly intrigued by the stubborn man undoing the knots that held her tight, even as he unconsciously created invisible knots that had her spellbound.


	4. 1 Day

**It took a few days in her presence for Erik to realize that she was just as stubborn as he…and that she was unlike anyone he'd ever met.**

He wasn't sure what it was about Meg that made his pain more bearable. Maybe it was how she accepted him whole-heartedly or how warm her personality was. Erik just knew that although he had instructed her to leave many times, he was now secretly glad when she refused each and every time. Thoughts of Christine were less and less occurring. Most of his thoughts now revolved around the petite ballerina. She had become his light when his life had turned dark.

And that thoroughly confused him. Never had he had anyone show him as much kindness, and PATIENCE, as she had. No one had ever dared cross him but she was quick to scold him when he started on one of his 'pity parties' as she liked to call them. She had become a permanent presence in his life, making it her life's mission to make sure he recovered. She had become his…Friend.

So it came as a surprise when he woke up one day, to find her gone. He instantly panicked.

'Where did she go?'

He ran a hand through his thick, black hair, pacing the room nervously. Had he done something wrong? He knew he had been unjustly cruel to the ballerina in those few initial days…but as the days passed, his insults had lost their bite and he had become used to her reassuring presence. It kept him grounded when thoughts of Christine would nearly send him over the edge of insanity.

Where was she? Had he scared her away? Did she find him repulsive, despite all her earlier actions? A strangled choke escaped his throat at the thought. He sank to his knees, his world once again crashing down on him. Regardless of what he had said, he enjoyed her company. He had gone so long without proper company that being with Meg had become addicting. Her fiery temper combined with her sweet disposition confused, irritated, and pleased him all at once. He didn't know what to make of her and yet in the brief time she had stayed, she had carved herself a space in his, dare he say it, heart.

He knew it was wrong. He had always been possessive by nature, all those years without had taught him to take everything he could and hold it tight. It was probably what had scared off Christine, he thought dejectedly. And now he had become dependent on Meg's constant companionship.

The young dancer had fully integrated herself into his life and to him, had become a fixed constant in his fluctuating moods. She wasn't afraid to stand up to him when he began one of his fits and was the only one so far that was able to calm him. Even Christine had not been able to, had been afraid to.

The sound of the lock turning brought his attention to the door. He stood, every muscle tense. Wanting to hope but afraid to be disappointed, he waited with abated breath. It left him with a whoosh as the blonde ballerina stepped through the door, laden with bags.

"Good morning," she smiled innocently up at him, entering and setting the bags on the floor. He almost fell over in relief before fury took over.

"WHERE WERE YOU?"

His emerald green eyes sparked with anger. 'She should have told me where she was going!' He felt hurt that she had left without saying anything, even though he knew he had no right to feel as such. He didn't own her. He actually should have felt relieved when he found her gone. Thoughts tumbled around in his brain and broken heart, confusing him and leaving him more irritated than before.

She raised her eyebrows in surprise then had the audacity to smile cheekily, "Were you worried?"

Had he been? Of course. Would he ever admit it to her? HELL NO.

"No," he strode toward the bed and sat down, not quite trusting his legs. She sighed good-humouredly at his curt reply.

"I went to get some things and make sure Mama was okay," she explained pulling out her clothing from the bags, "You were sleeping so peacefully, I thought it a shame to wake you."

He grunted, not quite able to stay mad at her when she looked at him with those innocent chocolate brown eyes, "How is your mother?"

"She's fine. She…She was dead set against letting me return here. But I assured her that I was in no danger and that you needed my help. She seems to think you've gone crazy. You seem quite lucid to me. Besides, I'm above the age where she can dictate my actions. Oh, and I also stopped by the market to buy some more food," throughout her whole speech, he couldn't help admiring her courage to stand up for what she believed in. Still, it bothered him that his longtime friend thought him dangerous. He considered it and thought that maybe the older Giry was right…What was to stop him from hitting Meg when one of his foul moods surged up?

Erik sighed deeply, clearing his head of those thoughts, "I'll help you put the food away…And next time, tell me where you're going BEFORE you leave."

She smiled up at him, making his heart beat painfully in his chest and causing an uncertain smile to surge up on his face. He could see in her eyes that she thought her mother was wrong and he was surprised to see trust shining in the dark brown.

With a slight giggle, she nodded happily, "Deal!"


	5. 1 Week

**It took 3 weeks for Meg to find out the Phantom's real name. **

Her mother had informed her the previous day that the search for the phantom had been called off and that it was safe for him to move back into his cavern home. She had done it in hopes that Meg would finally leave the lonely man and return to the aboveworld. But Meg had been unmovable on the subject and insisted that he still required her help. She was still worried about his health even though he had recovered fully. She had grown fond of the moody, and sometimes easily irritable, man though she would never admit it out loud to him, lest he retreat back into his shell and cease talking to her.

They had arrived to find his home in absolute chaos.

Many things were missing, others were broken, and nothing was in its correct place, save the piano. Meg heard him curse the mob and she felt a similar urge to do so as well. She had been the first to arrive in the phantom's lair and had found it enchanting with all its various candles and sheets of music scattered around.

She began helping him clean up, the two only stopping for lunch and dinner. She hummed quietly to herself as she worked, trying to keep her mind off the man with her. She admitted to herself that she enjoyed his company, 'Perhaps a bit too much,' she thought, blushing. She glanced at him, a small smile appearing on her face. She didn't like to admit it, not even to herself, but her fondness for him had grown to something above simple friendship. She took a moment to observe him, her smile softening.

He was gathering up scattered books and placing them back in the bookshelves with absolute concentration.

'He is handsome,' she couldn't help thinking, a small blush forming on her otherwise pale cheeks. A strong chin, sea blue eyes, dark hair, a perfectly shaped nose, and full lips. The skin on the other side of his face seemed to be healing as well, smoothing out to resemble the rest of his face. She guessed it was because he had quit wearing his mask, letting that side of his face air out for once. She had forbidden him from wearing it around her, preferring to see him as he was and not as the man he had been.

He caught her stare, eyebrows rising in question. Meg felt her heart constrict and dropped the vase she had picked up off the floor, startled and a little embarrassed that he had caught her observing him. The pretty vase crashed on the floor, the sound breaking through her immobile state. She tore her gaze away from his to look at the broken pieces on the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she bent down instantly, cheeks tinted a light pink. She heard him chuckle, making her feel even more flustered. A sharp pain in her hand caused her to draw it back from the pieces. A long line of red appeared and she watched blood seep out of the cut.

"Ow," she breathed out, wincing at the sharp, throbbing pain. Suddenly, he appeared at her side, taking her hand in his, examining the wound, his green-blue eyes worried.

"You should be more careful," he chastised her softly, though she could still hear the amusement in his voice. He led her to a wash basin and cleaned her cut, being unusually gentle. She watched in embarrassment as he took a small piece of fabric lying nearby and tenderly wrapped her injured hand.

"Merci, monsieur," she blushed as he smiled down at her. She cursed herself for acting like an air-headed chorus girl. He didn't seem to mind, offering a nod that she supposed meant, 'you're welcome'.

"I really am sorry, monsieur," she apologized again, guilt at breaking such a beautiful piece of art. Most of his furniture was broken and she just had to go and break another one.

He brushed it off, "It was nothing…That vase was getting old, anyway."

A frown came upon his face all of a sudden, making her wonder at his change of mood. She poked his shoulder lightly, tilting her head to look up at him.

"What's wrong?"

"My name isn't Monsieur, you know," she blushed, his intense gaze making her feel as if she was on fire.

"I know," she managed to say, "But I figured it was too personal a question and I didn't want to pry."

He smiled, "It is common courtesy to introduce oneself by their name. I'm afraid I've forgotten my manners."

She shook her head, indicating she didn't mind. "I was curious, Monsieur, but mother made no mention of your name and neither did you. I figured you would tell me when you wanted me to know."

His brows furrowed in thought, "I guess I never told anyone of my name, not even your mother, because no one thought to ask."

She longed to reach out her hand and touch his face but dared not, remembering that first time when he had flinched away from her hand. What if he pushed her away? Their relationship was precarious still; Meg wasn't sure what was and was not allowed.

"What is your name, Monsieur?"

He smirked at her and she felt herself swoon.

"Erik," he told her, watching her intently.

"Erik," the name fell sweetly, almost naturally, from her lips, as if she'd been calling him that the whole time.

She saw him tense slightly and nod, "It is a beautiful name."

He relaxed, his lips turning up at the corners in a small but sincere smile.

"I'm glad you approve. Your name is quite exquisite as well," he smirked, though there was no malice in his tone.

"Hardly. There are about a thousand Marguerite's in France alone," she huffed, throwing him a reprimanding glare. He knew she didn't particularly care for her name, opting instead to go by her nickname.

"Ah, but there is only one Marguerite who possesses such beauty," he stood suddenly, brushing himself off and going back to his previous work of restoring the books to their proper place, his ears a bit red. Meg felt elated. Not only had he complimented her, he had, unknowingly, given her a small piece of himself by telling her his name. She was now the only person who knew his real name as far as she knew. Meg had never felt more honored and special. Smiling brightly, she resumed her work, her humming more cheerful than before and her eyes shining brighter.


	6. 1 Month

**It took eight months for Erik to realize that somehow Meg had wormed her way into his life and into his broken heart. **

He tried to focus on his reading, he really did. But with Meg practicing her dancing in the room, it was nearly impossible. His eyes followed her every move, watching as she dipped and spun, as graceful as a swan. He had tried to deny it, to tell himself that it was impossible to fall in love again. He had thought that he would always pine for Christine, always love her.

And then, Meg Giry had entered his life. It seemed that her entire purpose in life was to prove the impossible. He had thought it impossible to salvage his shattered heart. But she had come along, gently picking up all the pieces. And the worst part was, she wasn't returning them to him. Rather, she was keeping them to herself. Oh, she was the sneakiest of all women, becoming his friend and then seducing him with her innocent ways.

He had even begun to doubt his earlier feelings for Christine. Had he really loved her, or was it just an obsession? He hadn't really known anything about the orphan, other than that she loved music as passionately as he did, hadn't taken the time to get to know her. Not like he had Meg, who enjoyed reading Edgar Allen Poe's works, whose favorite color was blue and who loved to dance. He knew almost everything about the blonde, both from observation and from the dancer herself.

It was strange to think that Meg was so similar to him in the way that both were often times overlooked and, while they expressed themselves in different ways, both shared their feelings through music, he composing and she dancing. He had come to realize that she loved music as much as he, though she created it in a different way than he did. That's not to say she didn't have a lovely singing voice…She sang quite well but she'd had no one to coach her so she'd never developed her voice fully.

He had recently come to the conclusion that if love was what he was feeling now then he hadn't really loved Christine. Maybe fascinated with her would be a better explanation of his feelings for the recently married brunette. Perhaps not even that. Perhaps he had only loved her voice.

Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he had won Christine's affections. He was ashamed to admit that he hadn't thought that far. He had been too blinded, his only focus on winning Christine from the insufferable fop and getting her to marry him. But he wasn't sure of what he would have done afterwards.

He resumed watching the blonde ballerina dance, her movements swift and sure. She seemed to be dancing to her own music, gracefully and seductively bending and twisting different ways. He was amazed at how beautifully she danced, thoroughly engrossed in her movements.

"Care to join me?"

Her eyes sparkled in challenge as she met his gaze. He flushed at being caught and cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. Her cheeks were also flushed but he couldn't tell if it was from dancing or if he had made her blush. He found that he enjoyed making her flustered and watching the pink tint enter her cheeks. It had become one of his favorite past times.

"I'm afraid, mademoiselle, that although I sing quite well, I have no talent for dance," he felt his cheeks return to their normal temperature. It seemed that she enjoyed making him uncomfortable and had made it her life's purpose. She pouted and he fought down the uncontrollable urge to capture her lips with his own.

"Please," she pleaded almost childishly, her brown eyes wide. He sighed, not believing he was actually considering it. He cursed himself for turning so soft. 'She has me wrapped around her finger!' He noticed her small smile of triumph, knowing she had already won. If anyone else had smirked that way, he'd have had a fit of rage. But there was something about Meg that seemed to soothe the beast within him, making it near impossible to get angry with her. He grumbled, getting up off his comfortable chair to stand beside her, making sure to mark his page.

"We have no music," he pointed out quite obviously. She only grinned in response, eagerness shining in her dark orbs.

"I have always wanted to try the waltz, but never had the chance to," she whispered to him, as if disclosing a big secret, not answering his earlier statement.

As she moved to stand in front of him, he realized how petite she really was. Even smaller than Christine. Her head was a lot lower than his shoulder and he knew he could easily wrap her in his arms. She stepped closer, guiding one of his hands to her waist. He swallowed thickly as her hand then came to rest on his shoulder. Smiling up at him, she took his other hand in her own, holding it out. Erik could feel his heart thumping wildly out of control, as if it wanted to escape. He tried to concentrate on slowing down his breathing and not on how soft her hands were in his or how she would fit perfectly in his embrace.

"Now, 1, 2, 3," she prompted him to follow her. He had always watched other couples dancing but had never participated in it. He realized that he had done things in her presence that he had never done in anyone else's. She had gotten him to blush, laugh, smile and now dance. It was strange how she seemed to invoke only the best of him and gently repress the bad.

Her soft laugh broke into his thoughts and caused a shiver to go up his spine.

"You're not concentrating," she accused him in a teasing tone. He mock glared at her, earning him another laugh. As they danced, she began humming a ballet tune he recognized from Swan Lake. Grinning, he joined in and he watched her face light up in joy as he did so. As he got the hang of it, she allowed him to lead. He twirled her once, grinning as he caught her unawares.

"See? You're a natural," she giggled after a moment of silent concentration and he rolled his eyes. He twirled her around again then brought her back in closer than they had been before. She gasped lightly, her brown eyes wide with shock. He smirked, although inside he felt like a nervous wreck. Every part of his body that she was touching felt like it was on fire. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself leaning down. She looked up at him, different emotions swirling around in her brown orbs. He could feel her sweet breath on his lips, intoxicating him. They had not stopped dancing, their feet still unconsciously moving.

And suddenly, he tripped on a protruding rock, sending both of them to the ground. He cursed the rock rather soundly, before realizing the compromising position he was in. Meg lay pressed against him, staring down at him with round brown eyes. Their faces were only millimeters away, his nose brushing hers, their breaths mingling. Her cheeks were a rosy color and he could feel his face warming up as well. His mind was screaming at him to push the young girl away while his heart told him to just bend his head those few extra millimeters and kiss her.

"I told you I wasn't much of a dancer," he said a little breathlessly, hurrying to get her off of him and put as much distance between them as possible. His body was on fire, screaming at him to gather the blonde into his arms. 'Coward,' his heart seemed to shout at him, 'You're a coward!'

'I know,' he growled viciously, angry at himself. But he found he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too afraid of facing another rejection. And he was sure that if Meg rejected him, he would never recover. She had become too important in his life, too vital. She was not only a love interest now, but she had become his friend…something he'd never had before. If he lost her, he knew he would not survive.

Running a hand through his hair, he sat back down, resuming the useless task of trying to read, while Meg stood trying to figure out exactly what had taken place.


	7. 1 Year part 1

**It took one year for Meg to realize that she would have to make the first move. **

Meg was tired of waiting.

All the lingering touches and scorching gazes left her wanting more.

There had been times when she thought Erik would kiss her, but he always backed away.

And she was helpless to stop him. Every time he stood too close, her thoughts would scatter. Her breathing would constrict. Her palms would get sweaty and she found it was impossible to utter a sound, let alone a sentence.

She knew he was afraid of being rejected again. It had only been a year. She tried to understand, she really did.

But he was driving her crazy, gazing at her with those deep jewel-green eyes of his every time she caught his gaze.

She sighed, getting out of bed and making her way through the dark cave. She made her way through the tunnels, already quite familiar with them. She emerged in Christine's old dressing room, opening the mirror to enter the dusty space. She quietly made her way to the burnt stage, her eyes sweeping around the once popular Opera Populaire.

They had decided not to rebuild the grand building. The damage was not as extensive as it first seemed, only the orchestra pit and some of the seats had been burned. But too many people were afraid of the Phantom, seeing as he had not been caught, and they didn't want to risk a repeat performance of that last night.

She stood in the middle of the stage and began to dance, letting her thoughts dissolve into nothing and her frustrations transform into practiced steps. She enjoyed the feeling of her body moving and becoming a channel for her emotions. She spun then dipped, dancing to the music of the night. She concentrated on nothing but the dance, letting it carry her away.

She was breathing heavily when she finally stopped, sweat beading her forehead. Feeling refreshed, she sat quietly on the stage, enjoying the comfort of the night. She as not alone for long though. A sound in the shadows caught her attention and she turned, staring at a darkened corner of the stage.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I believe my thoughts are worth much more than a penny," she giggled, smiling up at Erik. He rolled his eyes but she could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. He came towards her, settling himself beside her and she forgot to breathe for a second. His white shirt was open at the top, showing some of his muscular chest. He raised a dark eyebrow when he caught her staring and she flushed, embarrassed. She turned her gaze back to the seating but not before catching his satisfied smirk.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before she broke it, still staring at the broken chandelier, "What are you doing up?"

He looked at her, his eyebrow once again rising, "I could ask you the same thing."

She smiled, clearly amused. Even with her new predicament, she had promised herself that she would not act any differently around her new friend. She loved to talk to him, though their talking usually led to a friendly argument of some kind.

"I was thinking," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders. In this case, she decided it would be better to be vague than truthful. Although not as afraid as Erik seemed to be, Meg was still frightened of being rejected. He stared at her and she could see he wasn't entirely satisfied with her answer.

"About what?"

"This whole year," she ventured further, "A lot has happened. I never would have imagined being here at this point in time at the start of the year."

He nodded solemnly, his face serious. "Do you regret staying?"

She looked shocked then vehemently shook her head. At her answer, she could see his lips turn up into a small smile.

"Mother doesn't approve though," Meg whispered sadly. She could see his jaw clench, his posture tensing. She reached out a hand, placing it gently on his clenched fist.

"It was my choice to stay here with you," she told him firmly, "Mother will just have to learn to deal with it."

Her mother had ardently disagreed with Meg when Meg informed her that she would be staying in the caves. She had expressed her worries about his sanity quite vocally. Meg knew her Mother was worried about Erik hurting her, considering his earlier actions only a year ago. But Meg knew that Erik would never do anything to harm her.

When Erik realized what had happened, he had tried to convince her to return to her mother's house but she refused to budge on the issue. She was staying, end of discussion. He had refused to talk to her for three days straight but gave up when it was clear that even that wouldn't change her mind. It was still a touchy subject for them.

He visibly relaxed under her touch, chuckling to himself. "You are stubborn, aren't you?"

She smiled softly up at him, "Not as stubborn as you."

Instead of retorting as she thought he would, he turned toward her, his eyes glimmering beautifully in the moonlight. Meg's breath caught in her throat at the intense look he was giving her. She dared not breathe in case it broke the spell in which both found themselves in. She noticed the light in his eyes, that small light of hope that warmed her insides and made her knees turn into mush. She could feel the air crackle with tension, making a shiver run up her spine.

He leaned down slowly, his sweet breath on her face. She stood still, afraid that if she moved he would back away. She just watched him, her eyes staring into his, urging him on. Their lips were centimeters apart, their breaths mingling.

And then, he was gone. She could see the torn expression on his face, the longing in his emerald green eyes. She wanted to scream in frustration and beat Erik over the head with a sledgehammer. Couldn't he see that she wanted him to kiss her? She wondered if he was really that dense or if she was reading him wrong.

"We should get to bed," his voice was thick and husky, making her shiver with desire.

'Not again, not this time,' she thought determinedly, taking the hand he offered and standing up. Before he could move away, she had stepped up to him, their bodies brushing.

He stood stock still as her hands made their way to cradle his face. 'I'm tired of waiting, it seems like I'll have to make the first move,' her heart beat wildly in her chest, urging her on. She steeled her resolve and made her move.

Standing up on her tip-toes, she tilted her head and brushed her lips against his.


	8. 1 Year part 2

**It took one year for Erik to give in to what his heart wanted.**

Erik cursed himself for being such a coward. Once again he had found himself leaning in toward Meg. And once again, he had backed off. He could almost hear his heart thoroughly chastising him, telling him he was being an idiot. It was clear from the way she looked at him that she felt the same. But he had been wrong once before and he didn't want to declare himself until he was absolutely certain her affections were real and true.

He also felt that he wasn't good enough for her. Meg was so sweet, pure and innocent. She deserved someone as pure as her. Not someone like him, who was more shadow than human. He had done so many wrongs in his life; he didn't deserve someone as utterly wholesome and angelic as Meg.

He stood, wanting to get away from the embarrassment. This had been happening for the whole year. They would be casually talking, he'd feel this strange electric feeling go through him and he'd lean in. Then he would back away, too afraid to go those extra inches. He longed to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless. But his fear always stopped him.

"We should get to bed," his tongue felt heavy and he tried to speak past the lump in his throat. He offered his hand to help her up, feeling electricity go up his arm as she took it. He failed to see the determined glint in her soft brown eyes.

As he began to move away, she stepped up to him, her body brushing against his. A jolt went through his body and he found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move. Her small hands came up and settled on his face, caressing and gentle. He watched her face near his and the whole world seemed to come to a stop. No reluctance or disgust shone in her eyes as she came even closer. And suddenly, his world was thrown upside down as her lips touched his, a simple feather light touch.

Her lips were warm and soft on his, her hands on his cheek burning his skin. He longed to respond but it took all of his concentration just to stay upright and standing.

All too soon, her warmth left him. He gaped at her, his heart beating loudly. Her brown eyes were tearing up and he felt his heart clench painfully at seeing her cry.

"I'm sorry," she whispered softly, a lone tear escaping and running down her cheek. She brushed past him, soft sobs already escaping her. It took only a second for his brain to reboot and realize what had just occurred. It took only another second for him to realize what an absolute idiot he was. It took yet another second for him to hurry after her, cursing himself the whole way. He ran through the tunnels, intent on catching the fleeing young woman.

"Meg, wait!"

She stopped at his plea, back still facing him. He stood panting, unsure of what to say. "Meg…I…," he trailed off, completely at a loss for words. How was he supposed to tell her that she was the whole world to him? That the fear that stopped him every time was that he felt he was not good enough for her? That she had saved him from the never-ending darkness after Christine scorned him? That he was inexplicably in love with her?

She still stood with her back to him, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.

"Meg, please turn around," he pleaded, wanting more than anything to see her angelic face. She turned slowly, looking up at him with pain filled eyes, tears running down her cheeks. She reminded him of when Christine had rejected him, his own pain back then reflected in her eyes now.

At that moment, looking at her tear-stained face, something in him snapped. At that moment, he didn't care if he was good enough for her, didn't care if her mother would not approve and didn't pay any attention to what his fears were telling him.

He strode toward her, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist. He buried his face in her soft hair, loving the feel of it against his cheek. He heard her soft gasp of surprise as he tightened his grip on her, relishing the way she seemed to fit perfectly against him. He could feel his heart beating loudly as if rejoicing. But he wasn't satisfied yet.

Pulling away slightly, he looked down at her shocked face. He slowly brought up a hand, laying it against her face and wiping all traces of the tears away. Her eyes stayed fixed on his, no disgust or scorn present in the soft brown, making him feel warm from his head down to his toes.

He lowered his head, their noses brushing. 'She is so much shorter than me,' he noticed as he tilted his head. They were now at the point where he always turned away, their lips almost touching.

He stared into her warm brown eyes, seeing the acceptance in their chocolate depths. Hesitating for only a second, he threw all caution to the wind and went those final millimeters.

This kiss was different from the chaste one she had given him only moments before. Her arms had come up around his neck, bringing him even closer to her own body. He tightened his hold on her, enjoying the way her body molded to fit his. He could feel her running her hands through his hair, driving him to a breaking point. All the emotions he had held inside came out in that one kiss. His mouth worked feverishly against hers, searching and demanding. Hers was just as frantic, molding to fit his lips in every way.

She broke away, breathing heavily. Erik smirked at her flushed cheeks, brushing his thumb against its softness. He was panting as well, his heart beating out of control. She smiled up at him and he felt himself melt. Her smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her eyes twinkled with unbridled love.

"Finally," she breathed out, burying her face in his neck. She planted a small kiss on his exposed collarbone and he shivered in delight, his desire for her peaking at the same time his love for her grew.

He brought her face up and once again captured her lips in his. He tried to be gentle but the fire in him was uncontainable. Erik wanted to show her how much she meant to him. She responded just as fiercely, matching his intensity.

The heat was becoming too much, Erik felt as if he was on fire. He moved his mouth down to her neck, kissing the exposed skin tenderly. He heard her moan softly, driving him crazy with want. She moved away from him then, her eyes twinkling mischievously. She dragged him by his hand, leading him to his own room. He hesitated, wanting her yet not wanting to rush. She noticed his hesitancy, turning her heated gaze on him. He felt his whole body flare up, pulsing with want. She sidled up beside him, standing on her tip-toes to reach him.

"Erik, please, I've waited one year to be with you," her soft voice whispered seductively into his ear. Before either of them knew what was happening, he had her pinned down on the bed, his lips on hers. He felt feverish, his clothes feeling too hot. Her nimble fingers reached up and began unbuttoning his white cotton shirt while he trailed kisses down her neck. She finished and he slipped out of the offending article of clothing. He watched her eyes run appreciatively over his torso, a satisfied hum escaping him. She timidly reached up and removed her own nightgown, watching his reaction. He gasped at the sight of her exposed skin, suddenly finding his eyes stinging with tears, and he blinked them back, a hard lump forming in his throat.

"What is it?"

Her soft voice was laced with concern and he loved her more for it. How could he explain what he felt at that moment? Here was this perfect angel giving herself to him, a monster. She was giving him the most precious gift a person can give to another. Herself.

"I love you," he finally whispered out the words he'd held in for so long, "I love you so much."

He felt a lightness, as if he'd gotten rid of a huge burden. She stood still for a moment before her face broke out into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. One so full of love and acceptance, he felt as if his heart would burst.

"I love you too," she whispered to him and his heart swelled with the love that he felt for her. He had never imagined, never dreamed, of anyone saying those words to him. Didn't think that anyone was capable of saying them to him.

Looking into her eyes, he could see that it was the absolute and pure truth. She loved him, monster that he was. And he knew she saw the exact same thing reflected in his own emerald green eyes.

He kissed her, letting the passion take control of his body, loving the feel of her skin against his. Knowing this was where he belonged.

In the arms of this brown-eyed angel.

That night, they passed the point of no return.


	9. 1 Nanosecond

**It took one nanosecond for Meg to say yes when Erik asked for her hand in marriage…it took a bit longer than that to convince her mother to allow Meg to marry him.**

Meg blinked open her eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. She stretched her body out, working out the sore spots.

"Hmmm…," Erik moaned in protest, making her giggle.

"Good morning, sleepy-head," she whispered in his ear. He responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and bringing her closer to him. She happily obliged, snuggling into his bare chest. She could feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. She sighed in contentment, loving the feel of his arms around her. They had been lovers now for over a month. And every experience was better than the last.

She lay still, listening to his heartbeat. It was strong and quick, a beat that matched her own. She closed her eyes, feeling his hand comb through her blonde hair. He tensed all of a sudden and she tilted her head to look up at him.

He looked uncomfortable, his eyebrows furrowed.

Meg sat up, now a little worried, "What is it, love?"

She put a comforting hand on his cheek and he turned into the touch. He gazed into her eyes, an intense look in them that made Meg's own heartbeat quicken.

"I love you," he caressed her own cheek with the back of his hand. She involuntarily shivered, making his lips quirk up into a small smirk that had her shifting to get closer to him.

She gave him a confused look, "I love you too."

He bit his lip, anxious uncertainty coloring his tone, "Do you? Do you really?"

His question confused her. Why was he feeling so insecure?

"Of course," she answered without hesitation, her voice clear and warm. That seemed to calm him somewhat, but he still remained a little nervous.

"Then," he took a deep breath then blurted out, "Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

His voice was uncertain; as if he wasn't sure she'd say yes. He was holding his breath, his expression anxious. Meg gaped at him before the question registered in her mind.

As soon as it did, she threw herself at him, happy tears running down her face, "YES, Oh Erik, YES!"

She saw him sigh in relief, his smile wide. She kissed him, throwing her arms around his neck. He immediately responded, kissing her back with an intensity that made her toes curl. He broke away and bent down, retrieving a small black box.

She blinked back the new tears threatening to spill, though these tears were of happiness and not of misery. She took it from his hands, reverently opening it. Inside, nestled in velvet, was a beautiful ring. A blue sapphire shone in the middle, bright and sparkling.

"It's beautiful," she whispered with awe, stroking the stone with reverence.

"Not as beautiful as you," he murmured, snuggling into her neck. He took the ring from the box, placing it on her ring finger. She tilted her face up and kissed him again, to which he eagerly responded. All of a sudden, he sighed, his mouth tilting down into a frown.

She stroked his face tenderly, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, "What is it?"

"Now, we'll just have to tell your mother, and somehow I have a feeling she won't like this very much," his tone was worried and Meg couldn't help but feel worried as well, knowing her mother would be dead set against the union.

"You're right about that," an older voice called out, making both of them jump, "I won't like that at all."

Meg paled while Erik tensed as her mother stepped into view, her frown deepening as she took in the scene.

"Mother," Meg whispered, clutching Erik's hand for support. He brought his arm around her waist, bringing her closer to him. Madame Giry looked absolutely livid, her gray eyes burning with fury.

"Meg," she began in a chilling voice, "Get dressed NOW."

Meg felt Erik tighten his hold on her and she leaned on him, glad he was there.

"No," she said softly, watching her mother's face color into a blotchy red. Madame Giry strode forward and grabbed her daughter's arm, ripping her away from Erik. She cried out in pain as her mother's nails dug into her arm.

In a flash, Erik was up, standing menacingly over both women. Even in his fury, he managed to grab a sheet to cover himself, wanting to retain some dignity.

"Let go of her," his voice was deep with warning, his eyes flashing. He wouldn't have anyone hurting Meg, not even when it was her own mother.

Madame Giry loosened her grip in shock and Meg used that to escape her mother. She ran towards Erik again, pressing herself against him. He held her close and covered her as well, glaring at the older woman in the room. The woman had gotten over her shock and now stood up to her full height, her eyes shooting daggers at the couple.

Her eyes flashed, gray clouds of anger, "You take advantage of my daughter and of my kindness and expect me to give her to you?"

Before her mother could continue with her tirade, she interfered, desperate, "He didn't take advantage of me, mother! I was the one that asked him to stay with me!"

Her mother looked taken aback at that statement, "What?"

"I wanted to be his; I was the one that gave myself to him. He never forced me to do anything," she said softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Erik stood by her side, his body rigid and tense.

Her mother swallowed thickly a few times, "Is this true?"

The question was directed at Erik, to which he nodded tightly. Her mother seemed to deflate, her body slumping. Meg gently untangled herself from her beloved, stepping closer to her mother. She hesitated, before putting a hand on her mother's arm.

"Mother, I know what I'm doing. I'm not a little girl anymore, "she spoke softly, "And I love him."

Her mother looked down at her then at Erik with distrustful eyes, "But does he love you? How do you know that he's not just using you because he couldn't have Christine?"

Erik's eyes flashed again and his jaw clenched, his temper flaring.

"I assure you, Madame, Meg took me by surprise as well," he spoke through clenched teeth, trying to control his temper, "I never expected to fall in love again either. But it seems I have and I would do anything for your daughter."

Meg smiled at him, thanking the heavens that she was able to fall in love with such a man. She turned back to her mother, a pleading look in her eyes.

Her mother swallowed thickly, "I still do not approve," the disgust in her voice apparent, "But Meg is already past the age where I can dictate her actions."

Meg sighed in relief, knowing that was as close to an approval of her decision as she was going to get. She kissed her mother's cheek, knowing how much it was costing her mother to even say that.

"Thank you, mother," Meg saw Erik nod in acknowledgement, his body still tense. Her mother sniffed in reply, moving toward the door.

Madame Giry paused, "But if you ever hurt my daughter in any way, I swear I will come and kill you with my own two hands."

And with those last words, she departed, taking her leave. Meg hurried to Erik, hugging him close. His body began to relax in her embrace, though his expression was still grim. She gave him a peck on the lips, making him sigh. He looked down at her, the beginnings of a playful smirk on his face.

"Well, that went better than I expected," the sarcasm was thick in his voice and she giggled, her hand running down his chest seductively.

"Then how about I help you take your mind off things?"

She nudged him towards the bed, planting a small kiss on his neck. He caught her suggestive glance, his smirk widening.

"I believe I will take you up on that offer."


	10. An eternity

**It seemed to take an eternity for Meg to walk down the aisle toward him. **

Erik fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to loosen his tie. Madame Giry had allowed him to marry her only daughter on one condition. They had to have a formal wedding reception. She had been adamant about that certain point, no matter how many times Erik and Meg tried to reason with her. In the end, there was no choice but to agree to her demands.

He shifted his weight to his other foot again. What was taking her so long? Were ceremonies supposed to be this grueling? His eyes traveled over the small chapel, examining the guest that Madame Giry had invited, much to his annoyance and utter horror.

Some of the guests looked uncomfortable being there, though some of them looked pleased. He knew that the ones who looked at ease were from Meg's family and had no idea who he was. The most uncomfortable people in the room, aside from himself, were the Count de Chagny and his wife. Erik had been struck with horror when he had seen them in the congregation, his blood running cold. Meg had been pleased to see her friend but he had also seen the worried look she sent his way. Madame Giry had assured both him and Meg that they had agreed to come and bore him no ill will.

'Right…,' he thought, noticing the way Raoul's mouth was set into a thin line. Christine sat rigidly, her eyes darting to her husband and then to him. She offered him a tentative smile, and he inclined his head to show that he had seen her and appreciated the chance to begin anew. Her smile widened and her body seemed to relax. As if sensing the unspoken agreement, the fop also relaxed, nodding his head at Erik in an almost surly manner.

The ceremony march began to play, drawing everyone's attention toward the entrance. Erik stood tense, waiting for Meg to appear.

And then he saw her.

She was dressed in a flowing white dress with beautiful embroidery. A thin veil covered her face. He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, watching as she came down the aisle toward him. She looked up and their eyes met.

He found he couldn't breathe anymore. Her smile widened, her chocolate brown orbs shining with love. Time seemed to slow down as she came toward him and he suppressed his urge to run to her and steal her away right then.

She finally made her way to him, after what seemed like an eternity and he offered his arm. She took it, stepping closer to him. The priest urged them to face each other and the ceremony began.

Erik wasn't sure what the priest was saying, he wasn't really paying attention. He only had eyes for her. He wanted to rip the veil from her face and capture her lips with his own then spirit her away to their bedroom. Her attention was mainly focused on the priest but she once in a while stole glances at him.

She then looked up at him, amusement glittering in her eyes as well as anticipation.

"Monsieur Destler?"

Erik started as the priest touched his arm, looking down at the elderly man in confusion. Meg giggled softly, making him flush for not paying attention.

"I'm sorry, father," he offered sheepishly, "what was that?"

The priest smiled amusedly and repeated, "Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

Looking into her loving brown eyes, he knew there was nothing he wanted more in the world than to grow old with the one who had repaired his broken heart and then stolen it for herself.

"I do," his voice was husky as he promised himself to his angel. She smiled up at him, unshed tears glistening in her warm gaze.

"And do you, Mademoiselle Giry, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?"

"I hope to love him longer than that, father," she smiled playfully and he felt his heart start at her sincere answer, "But, I do."

"And so, by the power vested in me, I pronounce you man and wife. Monsieur Destler, you may now kiss your bride."

Erik didn't need to be told twice. Reaching down, he gently lifted the veil, taking in her face. Her expression was that of untold joy and love, and he basked in the light that it offered him. He leaned down, tilting her head up with his hand, and captured her lips with his own. He heard applause and some cheering as their lips met.

All too soon, she pulled away, her eyes shining playfully. He inwardly groaned, when she put a finger on his lips to stop his advance.

"All in good time," she whispered seductively in his ear. He grinned, feeling so happy he thought his heart would surely burst. He wondered what he had done in his life to deserve such a happy ending such as this one.

"But now, you must greet the guests and have dinner," her mother stood next to them, frowning unpleasantly. He knew it would take a while before she actually approved of her daughter's decision, if she ever did.

He groaned vocally this time while Meg giggled, pulling at his arm.

"Come on, the sooner we get this done the better," she laughed at the look of helplessness in his eyes.

He couldn't wait until this was all over. Then she would be all his. He smiled at the thought. Meg flushed as she caught his gaze and shook her head, as if she knew which way his thought had turned. He smirked back at her, planting a delicate kiss on her ivory neck, anxious to be on his way.

But first, he would have to brave the many congratulations and guests.


	11. 1 Child

**It took one child for Meg to know for a fact that she was the luckiest woman in the world.**

Meg smiled at the scene before her.

Erik lay sprawled on their bed, his chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. Curled into his side was their 4-year old son, also sleeping peacefully. Young Adrien had been a pleasant surprise but not an unwelcome one.

They had been married for six years now and every day she found something new that she loved about Erik. Yesterday, it was the way he sang her to sleep when she had a bad day. Today, she found that she loved the way he looked when he was sleeping. She had learned to love everything about him, even his flaws.

That's not to say they didn't have their disagreements. He was still as stubborn as he had been before their son came into their lives.

Meg continued watching the two most important men in her life. Adrien looked every bit like his father, though to Erik's immense relief he had not inherited the deformity his father possessed, although his deformity was now barely recognizable.

The 4-year old had a mess of thick black hair that curled slightly at the tips. His eyes were an intense blue-green, shining with curiosity and intelligence. He was a healthy pale color with adorable dimples that showed when he smiled. His voice was angelic; much like his father's probably was when he was younger. And he had a natural talent for music. At four, he could already play the piano and the violin beautifully.

Though he looked very much like his father, his temperament was more like his mother's. He was soft-spoken and calm, a natural peacemaker. He tended to be shy at times, not speaking to people he did not know. He wasn't spoiled but he could be stubborn. He seldom cried and when he did it was because he was in pain. He was very bright, like his genius father, and sometimes surprised both his parents with his perceptiveness.

Just last week, the two had been arguing over some trivial matter and had woken the sleeping child. Adrien had then told them, "Mommy und Daddy not fight. Mommy und Daddy lub each odder."

The argument had promptly been forgotten and they had apologized to each other and to their son.

"It all wight," he had responded brightly, "Adwien lub mommy und daddy."

It was safe to say that the little boy had both his parents wrapped around his little finger.

Meg continued watching the two, her heart overflowing with love for them. As if sensing her stare, Erik's eyes fluttered open and he caught her gaze with his own heated one. Meg shivered deliciously, pleasantly acknowledging that after six years he still had a powerful effect on her.

"Bonjour, mon ange," he whispered softly, his eyes lazily taking in her form. She smiled at the way his eyes hungrily raked her body, as if he couldn't get enough of her. She felt pride at knowing she was the only one to make him feel that way. But their love wasn't just a physical attraction. She knew without a doubt that he was the most important thing in her life and that without him, life just wouldn't make any sense. She knew she'd be lost without him. They had become partners. Where one was, the other couldn't be far behind.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," she said just as softly, still aware of their sleeping child. He pouted playfully at the polite greeting, motioning her forward with his eyes. She shook her head, moving forward but staying out of his reach, much to his dismay. She bent down next to Adrien, scooping the child up in her arms. He watched her movements with almost eerie concentration, his eyes following her out of the room.

She entered Adrien's room, setting him down on the bed and tucking him in. Placing a delicate kiss on Adrien's head, she left quietly, taking one last glance at the small angel sleeping peacefully.

"Mummy?"

She froze, turning back around to the half-asleep child, "What is it, mon ange?"

He said nothing but opened up his little arms and she instantly obliged with his silent plea, tightly hugging him to her. His small arms circled her neck and he sighed happily, snuggling his face into her neck.

"I luv you mummy," he mumbled against her neck, his eyelids once again closing over his brilliant eyes. She blinked back tears and planted a kiss on the top of his dark head.

"I love you too," she gently set him down again, "Now sleep, my love. It is late."

"Okay mummy," he answered drowsily as Meg tucked him in. Meg waited until his breathing had once again evened out before quietly slipping out of the room, walking down the hallway toward her own.

Entering her room, she was surprised to find Erik gone. She squeaked as arms encircled her waist and she was scooped up then dropped unceremoniously into their bed. He hovered above her, a mischievous smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth. She pouted but then giggled as he reached down and planted a featherlight kiss on her neck. She instantly responded, moaning softly. She could feel the shake of his body as he chuckled.

She slapped his arm playfully, giggling as he resumed his trajectory. She moved his lips back to hers after a while, kissing him thoroughly. She tilted her head down, placing brief kisses up his neck. He hummed in pleasure, turning his head to plant a brief kiss on her lips. She sighed in contentment, snuggling into his body, breathing in his masculine scent. He smelled of ink and parchment and wood. She found the scent intoxicating.

He brushed her soft hair, lulling her into security. "Meg?"

"Hmmm…," her eyes were drifting shut as she answered his call, peace settling around her.

"I think Adrien deserves a little brother or sister, don't you?"


	12. 1 Look

**It took one look to know exactly what she was thinking.**

"Fop," Erik almost choked on his soup, a laugh bubbling up his throat. His oldest, Adrien, snickered. Everyone froze, the dinner table suddenly quiet.

"Fop," Meg shot Erik a look that clearly said, 'I cannot believe you taught him that.'

He smirked and shrugged, also communicating wordlessly, 'It's your own fault for inviting the fop and his wife for dinner.' Even after all this time, Erik was still impressed by how they could read each other's body language so well.

The "fop", aka Raoul, was speechless. His wife, Christine, was likewise stunned.

"Fop, fop, fop," their 2-year old sang, giggling happily.

"André, that's not nice," Meg reprimanded her son, her gaze serious. The child giggled even harder, singing his song louder. Meg cast a glare in his direction and he smiled innocently, trying to hide his obvious amusement. Adrien, who sat beside him, hid his own amused smile behind his napkin, his green-blue eyes glittering.

Christine and Raoul cleared their throats, clearly uncomfortable with the situation though Christine looked a little more amused than her husband, who looked like he'd eaten a sour lemon.

"Mama, what's a 'fop'?"

All eyes turned to Erik's middle child, Ariana. Her clear blue eyes were curious, looking up at her mother with innocence. Their middle child had inherited her parent's stubbornness and fiery temper but she was a caring and obedient child and to her, her mother was her hero. Meg shifted, her eyebrows furrowing and a blush tinting her cheeks a light pink.

"Fop: A man who is preoccupied with and often vain about his clothes and manners, in other words, a dandy," their oldest recited, his honey sweet voice holding a hint of laughter, his sea-blue eyes twinkling mischievously. Adrien, Meg had once said, was the one that was most like his father, sweet yet sarcastic when he wanted to be and overly mischievous.

"Thank you, Adrien," Meg replied tightly as Erik tried not to laugh. Their only daughter looked puzzled for a minute, her mouth tilting down into a frown.

"Oh," her pink lips formed into a small 'o' and she giggled as she finally understood. Meg gave her daughter a hard look and the child quit giggling though a silly smile was still present on her lips.

Meg turned toward her husband with a tight smile, her eyes flashing dangerously, "Erik, why don't you go get the dessert?"

Erik grunted but got up, patting the 4 year-old's head as he passed behind her to retrieve it. Ariana giggled again as André resumed his song, clapping her hands in time with the impromptu music. He and Meg had been delighted when all three of their children showed talent in music, although his wife didn't look too happy at the moment with his youngest son's musical talent.

"I'm so sorry," he heard his wife apologizing, "André picks things up quite quickly. Please excuse my children."

"It's quite all right," Raoul's reply was a bit forced, Erik noticed in amusement. Even though Erik was happily married to Meg and held no more ill will toward Raoul or Christine, there was still a manly animosity between him and the Viscount. He knew Raoul wasn't too fond of him either and that the dandy still thought it was possible that Erik would snap one day.

"Oh, André!"

While his mother had been apologizing, the 2 year-old had taken the chance to throw food into his curly dark hair. His brown eyes shone with amusement and he began giggling when Meg tried to pick the peas out of his black hair.

Adrien snickered again, his black hair falling into his eyes as he shook his head. Meg gave her 9 year-old son a warning look. He quickly turned to pick into his food, but not before giving his father an amused smirk, one that was the mirror of his father's.

Erik made his way over to the table, the ice-cream bucket in his hand, "Dessert anyone?"

Ariana's hand shot up into the air and she bounced around in her seat, "Me daddy, I want some!"

Erik chuckled at his daughter's overeager response. André resumed giggling, this time at his sister's antics, and began bouncing up and down in his high chair. Adrien nodded, standing to help his father. Erik ruffled his son's dark hair, to which the latter responded by affectionately nudging his father in the ribs. He caught Meg's pleased smile when she caught their exchange, though it changed to a reprimanding glower when she noticed him staring.

His daughter climbed over a pregnant Christine and a shocked Raoul to be the first in line. The curly-haired woman was 7 months along with twins and her stomach protruded largely in front of her. Meg, wanting to help her old friend, had invited them to dinner…Erik had been reluctant to have the couple in his home but he was surprisingly having a lot of fun.

André tried to wiggle out of his high chair, but Meg held him down. Out of all their children, he was the most energetic and the one that most called for attention. One second was enough for him to cause trouble and they had to constantly keep track of him.

As Erik scooped out the ice cream, he caught his wife's 'you and I will have a talk later' gaze. He smirked at her, his eyes glowing suggestively, 'I can't wait.'


	13. 1 Lifetime

**It took one lifetime to find out just how much they loved each other. **

Meg felt tears escaping her eyes, clutching onto her husband's arm for support.

"I didn't get the chance to say good-bye," she whispered sadly, fresh tears making their way down her cheek. Erik bent down and kissed her lightly, brushing the tears away.

She noted that he was also crying, though he was trying to keep her from seeing his tears.

"I'm sure she understands," he murmured, his deep voice still as beautiful as always even in their old age. She smiled at him, silently thanking him for understanding and comforting her. She gasped, almost forgetting the present for their old friend.

She reached into her purse, searching around in it until she found the ring. She smiled down at it, admiring its beauty. When she had first found it, Erik had been reluctant to tell her of its history for fear that she would feel as if he was still in love with its supposed owner. But she had insisted. After he had explained what the ring was, she had kept it safe with her, insisting that someday he might need it.

When they had first heard of their friend's death, they had been shocked, not quite believing. They had not spoken to their friends for quite some time. The Destler's had been quite busy with their lives and family. When it had finally sunk in, Meg had given him the idea. The ring did belong to her after all, even if she had refused it.

He smiled down at her, giving her a quick peck on the lips. He held up the rose he had been holding and she slipped the ring on. While he held it in place, she carefully tied the black satin ribbon around it, to hold the ring in its position. He took the gift in his hands, carefully placing it on the tombstone's base.

She watched him as he traced the letters of the name then smiled wistfully. He looked over at her, inviting her to join him. She stepped forward, putting her hand over his on the tombstone.

"Good-bye, Christine," she whispered quietly. Erik patted the tombstone before offering his arm to her. She gratefully took it, making their way to the waiting carriage. A handsome, dark-haired man climbed down from the carriage.

"We're old but not that old, Adrien," she chastised her oldest good-humoredly. He said nothing but smiled at her, amused by her reply.

"Grandma,Grandpa, you're back!"

A 6-year old ball of energy hurtled into a rather surprised Meg. Erik chuckled, while Adrien scowled at his daughter. Meg laughed, hugging the squirming blonde child. Erik helped both Meg and his granddaughter into the carriage, flicking his son on the ear when Adrien tried to help him up.

"Daddy was sooooooooo mean! He said I couldn't go with you guys! And then he told me to sit still, but I just couldn't because you guys were taking so loooooooooooooong!"

Erik raised an eyebrow, his green eyes glowing with amusement, "Is that so?"

Charlotte nodded at her grandfather's question, to which he laughed. The carriage rolled on, before stopping at the Opera Populaire. Meg smiled, making her way out of the carriage.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come?"

She looked up into Erik's worried green gaze and nodded. Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she stepped down.

"I won't be long," she assured him, making her way towards the large building. They had since moved out of the grand building, finding a comfortable home in the countryside. Meg had started teaching dance lessons, while he taught piano. She smiled as memories flooded her thoughts. Every day she had spent with him had been a gift to her. Still was.

She remembered the time when she had gotten a fever. He had stayed up day and night nursing her back to health. She had barely made it alive. She had thought that she had loved him back then. But time and time again, he continued to prove her wrong. She had never thought it possible to love someone so. To have your whole world depend on that one person, to love them so strongly, that you'd put your own well-being and happiness second to theirs.

She had heard that they would be having an auction at the Opera Populaire. She had been wondering what to get her love for their wedding anniversary. This had been an answer to her prayers. She stood in the corner, watching the events, waiting for the right gift to make itself known.

Then, she saw it. His music box. He had searched for it high and low but had never found it. She found her hand raising, wanting that music box more than anything. Another seemed to want it as well. She heard the numbers climb but still persisted, until she heard the auctioneer call the older gentleman Count de Chagny.

Looking over at man in the wheelchair, her eyes locked with his. She saw recognition light his dull eyes. He nodded towards her, and she acknowledged the greeting. She sighed as she allowed him to buy the music box.

She had seen it in his eyes. A thing which frightened her greatly. A dull, listless feeling had come into his eyes. They were the eyes of someone who had lost their soul mate, their lover. Her mother, bless her soul, had held that same look in her eyes for as long as she could remember. She watched Raoul being wheeled out, her heart going out to him. She knew for a surety that when Erik died, she would not be long to follow.

"Hey, Mom," she turned towards the voice, watching another dark-haired young man come towards her, though this one had warm brown eyes, "There you are!"

"André," she hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. He laughed, offering his arm, his impish grin stretching from ear to ear. Out of all her children, he had the most 'energetic' personality…as well as the innate ability to attract trouble.

"Dad's going crazy with worry," his eyes flashed in amusement, "He sent me to fetch you."

She smiled, laughing along with her son. They had soon made it to a small restaurant where the rest of her family sat. They were to be celebrating Erik and Meg's anniversary and the whole family had gathered. Adrien sat with his sweet wife, Clarissa, and their daughter, Charlotte. The little girl had inherited her mother's blonde hair and energetic attitude but her father's sarcasm. Clarissa waved cheerfully when she entered, before going back to paying attention to her daughter's exaggerated tale of what had happened at the cemetery, while Adrien sat by and shook his head in amusement.

Their daughter Ariana sat with her fiancée, Dominique, offering her mom a small smile as they entered. Dominique sheepishly nodded his head at her, his bright red hair standing out like a beacon. She chuckled when the red-head's freckled face became as red as his hair, courtesy of Adrien, who had probably made some inappropriate comment from the looks of it. She made sure to give her oldest a sharp glare, to which he ducked his head, though he didn't look at all repentant.

Her youngest son's own fiancée, Claire, sat by Ariana, deep in conversation with the older woman. The shy younger woman glanced up and smiled before her stormy gray eyes traveled to André, the love in their depths obvious. The brown-haired woman blushed as Ariana prodded her elbow to catch her attention, laughing when Claire jumped in her seat. She nudged her youngest and he smiled gratefully, moving to sit beside his soon-to-be-bride.

Her eyes traveled up to the head of the table, where her husband sat. His snow white hair glowed, his face as wrinkled as her own. Her own hair had turned gray, though Erik insisted that it was silver instead. She caught his gaze, seeing the love that resided in their emerald green depths. He instantly stood as she came near, giving her a small kiss on the lips. She giggled as she heard all her children groan in amused disgust. Erik sent a reprimanding glare in their direction then bent down and gave her another kiss before he stepped away and pulled out her chair for her.

Smiling, she sat beside him, knowing there was no other place in the world she'd rather be.

This was where she belonged.

Forever at his side.


	14. Extra Chapter: One Sickness

"I'm telling Mom!"

André gave an intimidating glare in his sister's direction, quickly hiding the 'stolen' cookie behind him. Ariana pointed an accusing finger in his direction and he swatted her hand away, his mouth covered in crumbs.

"TATTLETALE!"

Ariana puffed out her cheeks, glaring murderously at her younger brother, "I'm not a tattletale!"

"Enough, you two," Adrien had paused in his piano practice to look down at the two, his frown sending both kids into silence, "Mom's sick and you two are going to make it worse if you keep yelling like that."

Ariana and André looked down guiltily, fidgeting uncomfortably. Adrien sighed, running a hand through his thick hair, a habit he had picked up from their father. He left the piano bench and kneeled down in front of the kids, ruffling their hair.

"How about we go see how she's doing? You guys will have to be really quiet though," he told them sternly, waiting for their nods of agreement.

Their mother's fever had come as a shock to the whole family. 15 year-old Adrien had never before seen his mother look so weak...or his father so frightened. It scared him but as the oldest, he had taken up the responsibility of watching over 8 year-old Ariana and 6 year-old André as his father cared for their sick mother. His father stayed day and night by his mother's bedside, only leaving to fetch food for her or to shower.

Each of his siblings took one of his hands, clinging tightly to him. They had moved away from the Opera Populaire a few years back, finding a nice home in the outskirts of Paris. Adrien had been reluctant to leave his old home but found he preferred the countryside to the crowded city. Here, their father was not scared of venturing out of the house.

They stopped outside their parents' room and Adrien unlaced his hand to knock lightly on the door. There was a shuffling on the other side and the door soon opened, revealing their father. He looked worn out, his face pale and his whole form slumped. He offered his children a tired smile and patted each of their heads.

"How's Mom?"

Erik sighed, looking back into the room, "Her fever is still high but thankfully it's going down."

He motioned the three of them into the room, picking up André when the boy tugged on his pants leg. Ariana hurried in, making a beeline toward the bed. She instantly reached for her mother's hand, grasping it gently in her smaller one. Adrien stood by his father, hating seeing his strong mother so vulnerable.

Meg's eyes fluttered open, her gaze clouded, "Ari?"

The little girl squeezed her mother's hand, smiling, "Mommy! Are you feeling better?"

Meg smiled softly, her brown eyes unnaturally dull with sickness, "Much better now that you're here."

André wiggled about in his father's embrace, reaching out his arms in a desperate attempt to get to his mother. Meg reached out her arms and Erik deposited the 6 year-old into them, planting a gentle kiss on her flushed face.

André tugged on the front of her dress, pouting, "What about me, Mama?"

Meg laughed softly, patting her son's head fondly, "Why, I believe I'm getting better already, just from having you near!"

André positively beamed, snuggling deep into his mother's embrace. Meg giggled softly when Ariana pouted and moved to sit closer to her. Adrien couldn't help smiling when his mother patted the empty spot on her other side while looking over at him. He instantly complied with her wishes, relieved that she was getting better.

"Oh, Mom, Grandma called. She says if we need her, she can come and stay a few days," Adrien caught his father's frown and was glad he had told his grandmother not to come. He knew that his grandma still didn't approve of his father and she constantly voiced her opinion aloud, though she doted on her grandchildren.

Meg looked over at Adrien, a smirk twisting her lips, "Did she now? Well, since I'm getting better, I don't think we need to make her go through all that trouble, do we?"

Three shakes of heads answered her question and she laughed happily, clearly amused. The family sat together, André energetically telling his mother how mean Ari had been and how high he could climb up the tree. Ari was soon in a discussion with the younger sibling, protesting that she was not mean at all but that he was doing things he wasn't supposed to. Adrien was soon roped into the conversation when Ari accused him of being unfair in cutting a piece of the cake he had made, claiming that her piece was smaller. Erik had moved to hover over Meg, relieved to hear his wife laughing again.

He had been frightened when the blonde had collapsed, her skin feverish and hot to the touch. It had been a trying 2 weeks of nursing her back to health and he was glad that Adrien had helped him by taking care of the two youngest.

Meg clapped her hands, delighted with her children's visit, "Oh, how I wish I was already better!"

Meg gently stroked each of her children's cheeks, sighing wistfully. André's young face turned serious as he turned to look up at his mother, "Don't worry, Mama! Soon, Mama will be all better!"

Meg laughed and planted a soft kiss on his dark hair. She had been mostly unconscious those 2 weeks and had missed her children terribly.

"How about we let your mother rest? I'll see if I can whip up some dinner for us," Erik plucked André off Meg's lap, much to the child's dismay. His eyes instantly became teary and he struggled in his father's embrace, fighting to return to his mother. Adrien took hold of Ariana, who also looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Soon, Mommy will be all better and I'll be able to watch you climb that tree. But you need to be strong and wait just a little longer," her voice wobbled and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. André sniffled but stopped crying, his chin trembling.

"If you guys stop crying, I'll read you a bedtime story," Adrien suggested, staring at one child then the other. Both kids instantly dried their eyes, André clapping his hands happily and Ariana looking delighted.

"André want the one with the wolf who eats the granny!"

Ariana was quick to protest, "No! I don't like that story! I want Cinderella!"

"NO! No princess story," André wrinkled his nose in disgust, obviously not pleased by his sister's choice. Ariana stuck her tongue out at him and Erik had to hold back his youngest from leaping at her.

"We'll figure it out later," Adrien told the two sternly, irritation clear in his sweet voice. The other two glared at each other before turning away and Adrien rolled his eyes. His father chuckled beside them, shaking his head fondly. He put André down on the floor beside Adrien, patting the youngster's curly head. He opened the door and ushered them out then turned back to an amused Meg, his emerald green eyes anxious.

"I'll be right back, I promise," Erik said softly, smiling fondly when the blonde laughed happily.

"There's no need to rush…I think I'll take a nap, I'm feeling a bit tired," she hid a yawn behind her hand, her eyelids drooping but her pleased smile still in place. Erik nodded, knowing that his wife needed to rest if she was to get better. He shut the door quietly behind him, feeling a bit better after seeing Meg laughing again.

"Daddy, Mommy will get better, won't she?"

Erik smiled, leading his children to the kitchen, "Of course she will, Ari. Your mother is a strong woman…She'll be better soon, you'll see."

The blonde girl nodded brightly before rushing ahead, followed closely by an energetic André. Adrien shook his head tiredly and sighed, keeping pace with his father.

"Taking care of children harder than it looks?"

Adrien glanced at his father, "You have no idea."

A crash in the kitchen had both musicians quickening their pace, as well as the shouted insults being thrown around.

"You know, I just hope that soon comes quickly," Adrien huffed and Erik couldn't help chuckling. He gave his oldest a fond smile before bracing himself to enter the kitchen. He really hoped Meg would get better soon…He wasn't sure if he could handle the two youngest much longer.


End file.
